


drag me head first, fearless

by harleyhearts



Series: the finnpoe alphabet (or stories in every universe) [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Awkwardness, Bisexual Finn, Flirting, Gay Poe Dameron, Getting Together, Hook-Up, Interrupted Sex, Love at First Sight, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Poe Dameron, Pianist Finn, Strictly Come Dancing, Swearing, Wine, single gay dad Luke phone cameo yep!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28743753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleyhearts/pseuds/harleyhearts
Summary: In a surprising turn of events, Poe and Rey find themselves competing in the finale of Strictly Come Dancing. At the same time, Rey's determined to set her dance partner up with their tall, handsome and humble pianist Finn, stepping in to help during an emergency, as if sent straight from heaven.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: the finnpoe alphabet (or stories in every universe) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555894
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	drag me head first, fearless

**Author's Note:**

> _finally_ , this series is back from the dead. to anyone who might be following this i really am so sorry, i'm a loser who just don't know how to deal with life lately. anyway!!!! my baby Cat came with this idea for a dance au, which i had way too much fun with. if it isn't clear, i've never seen Strictly, nor do i ever plan to, so if any of the details don't match with what happens on the show that's why. cat ALSO beta read like the angel she is <3333 and the title is from a taylor swift song. obviously. enjoy??

“The next couple who will still be competing, going straight to the Grand Finale, is… Poe Dameron and Rey Skywalker!”

Poe hears the booming voice of the commentator quite clearly, but it’s not until Rey’s jumping into his arms, grabbing and shaking his shoulders, that he really understands.

They’re through to the finale. Holy fucking shit.

When his mind catches up, he lifts his laughing friend up and spins her around, not able to contain his smile himself. 

She’s hugging him so tightly he thinks he might lose his breath, but fuck it, they did it. They actually did it.

The girl does eventually pinch him and he puts her down, but they’re both grinning at each other like idiots. Now, okay, Poe knows they’re crowd favorites, bless them, but it seems like some miraculous fantasy. Which now is coming true, weirdly enough.

He certainly didn’t expect this when they first decided to enter _Strictly Come Dancing_ , as much as it starstruck him.

Meeting his friend at the dance academy, Rey’s always been more of a dreamer than himself. He’s really fucking glad she managed to convince him to do this.

Poe never believed in all that glittery temptation of reality tv, but well, maybe it’s got it’s charm. Don’t tell Rey.

For the night, he’ll settle on the quiet celebration, facetime his parents, and laugh at the twitter feed with his friend, leaving the new, all the more threatening responsibilities in the back of his brain for now.

Speaking of twitter, said friend jumps his bed as soon as he’s signed off his laptop for the night, popping another one of the hotel’s filled chocolates she’s been hoarding in her mouth before saying, “Look at this shit.”

Rey laughs around the chocolate, pointing his tired eyes to her phone screen.

_MOM AND DAD R GOING TO THE FINALE 😭 look at their hug yall UGH they’re killing me #damerey #Strictly_

Poe can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

As sweet as the intentions were, and trust him, he appreciated the overwhelming support immensely, this… shipping, he thinks it’s called, it’s a bit much sometimes.

It’s mostly hilarious, really. 

Partly due to Rey being like a little sister to him, partly due to him definitely not swinging that way, so to speak.

He’s known of his own homosexuality since about the age of thirteen, but it seems a strange thought to Poe to make assumptions of people, or, _ugh_ , celebrities’ relationships, regardless of that. A man and a woman can be friends, come on. 

And it bugs him, but that’s more the media with their intrusive questions than the fans. So most of the time, he tries to not let it drive him crazy. Rey feels the same, which is why they try to filter it all out by laughing their asses off, like tonight.

Poe shakes his head at the screen and sips the champagne room service also kindly offered them. He’s allowed to take advantage of the luxury, okay? Sue him.

“They never give up hope on that, huh?” he says, more like a conclusion than a question anyhow, and his friend hogs one of his pillows for her feet and keeps scrolling.

“Impressive,” Rey nods in affirmation, “You think it’ll quiet down when we win?”

“ _When?_ ”

He’s gotta say, he loves her confidence, even though it makes her slightly out of touch with reality every now and then. And maybe Poe likes the thought of winning, but he’s afraid he’ll blow his own expectations if he gets too cocky.

And while he gets an eye roll right back, the brunette opts for a sudden subject change, not that he minds, “Those rumors hurt my game, Poe. For real.”

So he tries, he swears, he really tries, but he can never resist the opportunity to tease his dance partner, “Since when do you have game?”

“Shut your face!” Rey squeals, pinching his side, _of course,_ she knows he hates that, dammit. It always ends up with them laughing together in the end, just like now, where her head makes its way onto his shoulder, and this episode of _The Great British Bake Off_ running ends up a sort of white noise.

“You shouldn’t be talking, by the way.” she tells him, plain and simple.

He’d deny it if it annoyed him that much, but she’s kind of got a point. Poe’s not ashamed that he hasn’t dated anyone in… a minute, per say.

A one night stand would be nice. But also, he sort of misses having a boyfriend. Not one like his last boyfriend, God no, but someone who looks at him in a special way.

Like he’s the sun. Or the moon? Something, who fucking knows.

Flirting used to come to him easy, like driving a car, or buttoning your shirt, or playing the guitar, but getting cheated on changes you in one way or another.

Maybe it just made Poe more wary. Not paranoid, he hopes.

But, fuck… honestly, he just misses having sex, man. He wishes he’d get his game back on that one. And cuddling after. One can dream.

And he finds himself replying with a mixture of a groan, and a chuckle, and Rey puts on her best pleading face, “You _need_ to get laid.”

Earns her a pinch right back, thank you very much.

“Hey, hey!” she giggles, while they’re shoving each other back and forth, because they really are like those annoying siblings on TV, huh, “Come on, _babe_. I just wanna help.”

Poe can’t help a proper laugh, and it’s dangerous, because their laughing fits almost always ends up with stomach aches and struggling for his breath. 

“Setting me up with your weird cousin wasn’t exactly helpful.”

“I-”

His friend interrupts herself before uttering anymore words, frowns and puts her hands up in defeat, “Okay, not my smartest move, I’ll admit it. But don’t say I didn’t try.”

And her head returns to his shoulder, and he can’t rub his grin off his face, even when hiding it in his hands. Poe ruffles her hair for good measure, and reaches over to pour her the last drop of bubbles. He tries real hard not to spill, seriously.

“Won’t say a word.”

…

Despite his best efforts, Poe’s woken up by Rey’s phone blasting _I Wanna Dance With Somebody_ right into his ear.

So much for beauty sleep, he supposes.

She only does this after several attempts to wake him, and given it’s 12am, he’ll let it go. Even more so when he notices how much she’s jumping around, like, half excited, half like the world’s about to end. It’s a little worrying.

He gets her to talk over breakfast, finally having her sat down and concentrated, “You doing okay?”

His friend gulps her orange juice in one mouth full and nods frantically, “Of course.”

The short reply doesn’t give Poe much to go on. Rey quickly understands when he raises his eyebrow, sort of scary how their communication has almost become telepathic, at this point.

She sighs, “We had a minor issue last night, but I sorted it.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, you were sleeping, dummy.”

Her smug grin is too much for his slow brain right now, so Poe all but nods, already close to emptying his plate while accepting whatever’s going on, “Just fill me in.”

The brunette sighs.

So Rey’s a little bit of a control freak. This is why he finds himself worrying too easily, too much, because as much as he loves her, it’s sort of frustrating being left in the dark. He gotta get her assured, to ask for help more often, he thinks.

Definitely gets that from her dad, Poe’s sure.

“Promise you won’t freak out.”

“ _You’re_ freaking out.”

“I’m not! Just promise.”

Pinkie promises are their thing. It’s almost become their behind the scenes ritual, but hey, they’ve done it before every performance screening so far, and they’re in the finale. That’s gotta be worth something, right?

When Poe obliges, she rips open her yoghurt with her signature determination while answering, “Phasma’s not gonna be there for the finale.”

Okay, _what?_ His friend looks scarily unfazed when he coughs on his gulp of coffee, so if any of their fellow hotel residents or staff thought they were a couple, they definitely don’t think so now.

Poe’s wide eyes don’t harness much reaction from her either, except a furrow of her brows. Not the first time in this rodeo, never gets old.

“Are you telling me we don’t have a pianist for our _finale dance_?!” he finally finds himself replying, lowering his voice to a hush. 

It’s no secret this hotel’s taken in over half of the _Strictly_ contestants, which makes it exceptionally attractive to fans as well. Poe can’t have a potential gossip magazine leak about their… compromised state, let’s say.

However, his own freak out seems to calm the brunette’s demeanor.

Actually, she’s already glancing at the breakfast buffet again, probably aiming for another croissant, while telling him, “Yes and no.”

Damn her, always leaving him with a cliffhanger. He tries to put on his patient face when Rey returns with her plate now filled, and she grabs his arm over the table with a pointed look.

“Babe, I sorted it.” his friend assures him, spilling two bags of sugar in her coffee before looking at him again. She grabs another sugar and the milk, too, Jesus, how she gets any sleep at all is beyond him.

“So, Phasma’s wrist is fucked. I got the call at, like, 3am.” Rey starts out, taking a sip, frowning, reaching for more sugar, “You can imagine I had a minor breakdown to my dad over the phone. Then to my aunt. Luckily, my cousin saved our asses.”

He has to blink twice at that statement, “Ben?”

“ _Ugh_ , no!” his friend scoffs, putting her cup down. “My _other_ cousin. Kaydel knows an American pianist, says he’s out of this world, for real.”

Way to give him a minor heart attack, God. Can’t blame her when she’d already solved the problem, while he was sleeping. When she should be sleeping, but they’ll have that talk another day.

Poe finds himself letting out a sigh of relief. 

He rubs the last bits of sleep out of his eyes, and given the clock over the hall entrance lets them know they should probably get to practice soon, he downs the last lukewarm coffee and prepares to make the exit.

“So I hope this means you talked to him?”

Of course, she flips her hair at him with another scoff, “Obviously. We’ll meet tomorrow, 10am sharp.”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Oh, don’t make me blush, Dameron!”

…

True to her words, Rey and Poe make their way to the studio to meet their savior. Their hotel being the closest really doesn’t say much, cause it’s still a solid forty minute ride, tragically.

But on the bright side, plenty of time for his friend to enlighten him about their emergency pianist. Finn Calrissian, he learns.

And she’s certainly done her research, already raving about this concert on Youtube Poe _has_ to watch, his channel and Facebook profile, too.

“Believe it or not, Kaydel booked him for her wedding.” Rey tells him, popping a pink bubble of gum and bouncing her leg.

It’s a slightly obsessive habit of hers, which Poe has frustratingly enough picked up too because of her. He’s maybe a little self conscious about them being so in sync.

But hey, since they’re spending five hours, at least, together every day, how could they not? It’s built up their trust in each other in a way, too, or maybe that’s just him overthinking it. Who knows.

“You talked to him on the phone, right?” he inquires further, still downing his coffee on the go, and the brunette nods eagerly.

“He sounded lovely,” she remarks, “Kaydel says he’s a little socially awkward, but he seemed happy to help out.”

She reaches over and takes a sip of his coffee for herself before going on, which, rude, but mornings like this, Rey just likes to get on his nerves to keep him on his toes, as she claimed last time. The satisfaction of her frown at the black coffee, zero sugar or milk, makes it fun for the both of them.

“You’re seriously fucked up for drinking that.”

“Hey, get your own coffee, then!”

“When would I get to make fun of you, then?” she replies, with an added _duh_ at the end. The drama of it all.

“Anyway,” his friend keeps going, dragging out the last syllable, while Poe keeps an eye on the time, “He went to Juilliard, been playing piano since he was… nine, I think. Top of his class- and in an orchestra, too! And he’s single.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Un-fucking-believable. Can you blame him for gaping?

Poe almost resolves to a groan, rubbing his face before folding his hands in his lap, “ _Rey Skywalker_. Are you trying to set me up with our emergency pianist, who we haven’t even met?”

The brunette looks at him like he’s grown a second head. She started it!

She scoffs at him, “No!”, which he doesn’t buy for a second, not with her tapping her seat and pulling out her phone in the hope of a distraction.

Poe cannot do much else than fall back into his seat with a sigh, “Seriously?”

“Look,” Rey starts it with her best _get-over-it_ sort of stare, before discarding the gum, “I just... happened to notice his relationship status. Pure coincidence. Just putting it out there.”

He’s said this, and thought it to himself too many times to start counting, but his friend is absolutely impossible. Poe really should commend her for the commitment, honestly.

The bus speaker ping interrupts them, and going off, the brunette throws another comment over her shoulder, “He’s pretty handsome, I’m telling you. Well, for a man.”

It launches then into another laughing match, as you would expect. Poe’s grateful for her quick reflexes, or he’d almost fallen head first right into a puddle.

“Oh my God.” are the only words that find their way out his mouth. He shakes his head at Rey before adding, “Just promise me you’ll behave.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

This is going to be an interesting, and long, day, that’s for certain.

…

Rey doesn’t exactly give up on her matchmaking mission yet, but Poe will take it in his stride. Working together isn’t really what he imagines a romantic getaway to be like, but his imagination has never been strong, anyway.

Besides, even if he wanted to flirt with the stranger, he’s way out of practice, as his friend adamantly reminded him just a few days ago.

He’ll get an opportunity to brush it up. Eventually.

And the brunette’s attempts at matches so far were less than successful in the past, not that he blames her, it’s not like she knew.

Poe reminds himself today that she’s doing it out of love, and he loves her for it, so he can’t be all that annoyed without a smile on his face.

If only she wasn’t so smug about being right this time, as she claims.

The studio looks its good old self, met with their own expressions in the wall-to-wall mirror, sleek flooring that’s definitely better without socks on, and the black piano in the far right corner, of course.

Change is a shorter figure on the stool, clad in a cuffed bordeaux jacket and nimble fingers shuffling through sheet music.

He’s shorter compared to Phasma, but she’s a giant, so who’s surprised?

The sound of Rey’s bag dropping to the floor is what alerts him of their presence, and as the man stands up to go greet him, Poe, embarrassingly enough, has to stop in his tracks for a moment.

It’s usually his best friend’s job to be overdramatic, but he might just be standing in front of the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

Well, _shit_.

First of all, even more reason for Rey to be smug, and seriously, to hell with that.

Second of all, for the first time in a long while, Poe’s internally launching himself into a little bit of a gay panic.

But can you fucking blame him?

He doesn’t think so, when the pianist flashes them a smile like he’s made out of a million suns, surely, an oh, _so_ satisfying jawline and the v-neck exposing his throat and collar bones, full lips looking exceptionally soft, he just wants to-

No, _no_ , Dameron, we’re definitely _not_ doing this. Keep you fucking cool. And keep it in your pants.

It takes his brain what feels like a million years to catch up to the shorter man’s reached out hand, and, to his horror, Rey struggling to hide her shit-eating grin behind his back.

He’s quick to take the hand in his, hoping, _praying_ none of what he’s experiencing right now is all that visible. The pianist doesn’t seem fazed, at least.

“I’m Finn,” his voice sounds, calm, words easily gliding out of his mouth, which definitely doesn’t do _things_ to Poe, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“I know.” he replies dumbly, because he’s an idiot.

Rey’s nearly in tears from keeping in her laughter.

Luckily, his brain’s getting up to regular speed, and he shakes his head, trying not to look like he wants to hide away forever, “I mean, Rey told me your name. Uh, sorry, that doesn’t sound much better. I'm Poe. The pleasure’s all ours, really.”

Finn chuckles, looking way too shy for a man as Prince Charming dreamy as himself, and Poe has to gulp. Seriously, why would the world do this to him now, of all times? Seriously?!

“Just glad I can help out.” he tells him, profoundly sincere. It makes Poe’s head spin.

He almost expects his best friend to drag out his pain further, but she acquires both of their attention to the piano, bless her.

“You got my email about our routine, right?” Rey asks, and Finn nods, prompting her to continue, “Sweet. It’s a slow piece, but we got some lifts and shit. Can’t play it easy if we want to win.”

Their pianist quickly adjusts to her humor, though he’s just _too_ cute with all his shy laughs and dog-eared papers, Poe wants to grab his perfect face and wipe all the nerves off his face. With his own face. Alright, _focus_.

And it’s actually quite impressive, if he says so himself, how he manages to keep his cool in today’s rundowns of the routine. All that strict learning pays off as he hoped.

Also, whatever Finn’s doing on these keys, he’s never understood instruments outside of the guitar himself, it sounds damn magical.

Poe’s definitely taking a liking to the man irrationally quick. You absolute mess, Dameron.

It’s only two weeks, he reminds himself. He’s a professional, dammit. At least, he tries to tell himself this when they bid their goodbyes for the day, and Finn shakes his hand a mere second longer than Rey’s, and Poe’s getting all flustered over absolutely nothing.

His best friend’s face reads him like a math problem for third graders.

“Just say it.” Poe sighs, and when she tries to feign ignorance, he tilts his head at her, he’s not that much of an idiot, “I know you want to.”

Rey finally lets out the laugh she’s been holding down, making a few of the elderly patrons jump in their seats.

“I told you so.”

…

So maybe, possibly, their new pianist, dubbed a likely real life angel in his mind, proves to be somewhat of a distraction.

Poe has already cursed himself plenty for drooling over a colleague, whom he barely knows, but hey, this is really all Rey’s doing, so she’s to blame. Mostly.

Okay, he can’t blame his best friend for his own stupid feelings. But she knows him too well, apparently.

“I knew he was your type.” she tells him, the way she’s laughing at him could probably count as bullying at this point, and he grumpily sits by while she continues, “Tall, dark and handsome.”

Okay, shut up, Rey. But since she’s right, it’s not like he’ll have much say in this.

Also her whole spiel about him having a thing for playing instruments is… freaky, but listen. It’s not Poe’s fault he can’t take his eyes off of Finn’s hands, is it? Not when they move like _that_ , anyway.

So maybe he’s found that facebook page, too, and watched a few videos, maybe there was an instagram link there. What about it?

When he touches each key, he doesn’t really know, it’s kind of like Poe’s being taken to another universe. Sounds cheesy, he knows.

He can’t help taking glimpses at Finn’s face while they practice, either, his look of deep concentration being way more attractive than it should be, visibly biting the inside of his cheek and furrowing his brows.

And you know, when Poe tries to spark up a little more conversation on their second day, other than him being a nervous homesexual wreck, he definitely showers the other man in all the compliments pouring out of his chest. He truly can’t help it.

Finn is so fucking humble, it’s almost annoying.

Poe can tell he has a hard time taking the words to his heart, which is why insists on his own sincerity. 

He may also be able to make out the curve of his back, his soft calves, he imagines that, anyway, and fingers much slender than his own.  
Poe thinks he’s becoming a little too obsessed, with the pianist occupying his mind so much.

If this was a night out, a situation that called for a drink to spark up his own confidence, and if he didn’t have to _work_ with Finn, for heaven’s sake, he’d waste absolutely no time getting a piece of that ass, to be quite frank.

Really, from the little they’ve talked, but how much they’ve, uh, shared eye contact, he’s wholeheartedly sure the other man is someone who can give him one look that means _everything_ , and Poe will be lost right then and there.

Well, that’s not exactly a hypothetical situation, now is it?

But being in the situation they are in, it’s too delicate.

Rey’s still insistent on this whole wingman thing, but listen, there’s a deadline to think about. And surely, Finn’s way above his league. Like out of it, completely.

Even if he tried to make a move, he feels every time to be the wrong time. Their practice sessions start early and end late, and many times Poe’s too exhausted to work up his bravery for anything.

The other man likes to make conversation from time to time, and God, the way he talks about his work so passionately is too much for his earlier mentioned gay panic.

Poe doesn’t really think his head’s making sense after a couple days.

All he knows is he’s gotta focus on the competition, and not on getting laid. Rey knows that he knows that he needs it, but it has to wait.

Besides, with all these feelings of his running wild, Finn’s too damn perfect for a one-time hookup.

He’d want to see him again. Never see anything, or anyone, other than him, dammit. And see _all_ of him.

The insecurities the other man reveals, perhaps accidently, subtly, the few times, it breaks Poe’s heart, because really, he should be well aware of how amazing he is. Brushing off his talent as getting lucky is sort of pissing him off, a little bit.

“Buddy,” he’s started calling him, which just slipped out, seriously, luckily Finn didn’t seem to mind, “You’re like a born natural. I could never do that for a living.”

The pianist shrugs. _Help_.

“It’s nothing, really.” he says, like it’s straightforward and obvious.

Finn was maybe starstruck at first, as he says himself, but their connection seems to loosen up during the week.

At least, it’s less formal, more friendly. They could be friends, probably. Poe just wants a lot more, but he wants so many things. Maybe he has a habit of high expectations in life.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine, even though the other man mentioning an ex-boyfriend in passing puts him in a halt, but that doesn’t _matter_.

It’s brought up due to Rey’s not so subtle hints about Poe being “tragically” single. It’s a little embarrassing.

It does boggle Poe that Finn doesn’t… say much when that happens. His friend’s almost to the point of hitting on the other man _for_ him, and either he’s too polite to decline, or maybe whatever he wanted to ask him on the fourth day, where he ultimately settled on a “Nevermind, it’s, uh, stupid.”, something similar to what Poe wants to have the guts to say.

Rey seems close to giving up on her matchmaker dreams, and he himself is struggling like a romantic novel’s main character facing love at first sight, because that’s what he is.

Fucking overthinking.

…

Due to the pressure of the upcoming show, practice every day is a given.

Poe has to adjust the angle on the lift just a tad, he hasn’t dropped Rey _yet_ , thank God, but it cannot be any less than perfect if they want to win.

And his best friend’s competitive spirit is rubbing off on him.

But despite his best concentration, he finds his mind still easily wanders over to a certain pianist, practice or not.

Rey’s been telling him the whole week to just make the first move, or she’ll have to, she’s such a pain sometimes.

“You have his number, it’s that easy, babe.”

“We’re working together, Rey, I-” he tells her, floundering his arms in disbelief, “We both got his number for _work purposes_.”

He can’t count on two hands how many times she’s groaned at him by now. “You’re ridiculous.”

This conversation is, probably, why his friend decides she has an urgent appointment to get to on Monday, leaving practice early.

“I’m so sorry again, God.” she tells them, not looking the least bit sorry, but kissing Poe’s cheeks and returning Finn’s wave before rushing for the door, “Don’t let me ruin it. I’ll leave you two to it. Bye!”

He struggles to be surprised anymore.

Still, she did tell him so. Poe’s never been so sure in anything before that, and she was right that he was his type, right?

It’s not like they can practice much more without his dance partner, though, so he’s not sure how she expected that plan of hers to work out well.

Looking back at Finn packing away his notes with a grace unlike anything he’s seen before, Poe does find himself approaching for a… not so professional conversation.

Because, well, fuck it, he might as well try. If not for his own peace of mind, then to make Rey’s persisting come to an end.

This could end up not great. Can’t back down now, shit, he’s looking at you.

He hopes he looks somewhat put together. Both for potential flirting and the potential of this backfiring and making the other man uncomfortable, which is the last thing he wants.

But he just, you know, he remembers _tells_ , or whatever. Poe’s got a tiny hope that Finn’s lingering, and shy eye contact that’s definitely longer than normal for two people who only just met less than a week ago means something similar to what the other man’s doing to him.

Can’t know if he doesn’t try, he supposes, not much escaping it anymore. He just needs them to be cool, either way. Desperately.

“Uh, Finn?” he tries, which doesn’t come off cool in any perceivable way, but damn, he’s got to get his attention somehow, “You wanna call it off? Not much point in practicing anymore, I mean.”

Real life angel’s already standing up actually, giving him a nod, “‘Course. You probably got lots of places to be, too, heh… you guys are practically famous!”

Fuck, he’s so cute. Especially fumbling with his bag, and his sleeves, looking very much like he doesn’t know what to do with himself in that moment.

Poe hates that fame word, but he’s brushed it off many times before.

“God, no,” is what he finds himself replying, not that he knows what it means, _ugh,_ get yourself together, “Walk you out?”

It’s a silent agreement, and the short walk there is out to the bus stop settles on silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Except Poe’s trying to figure out what to say, and Finn’s opened and shut his mouth three times now, like he wants to say something, too.

Damn, he scolds himself, he’s definitely out of shape for this.

And while it’s only five minutes til the bus, which the pianist has to take in the opposite direction, just his bad luck, Poe figures he can still make a shot.

He swallows the words forming in his throat, however, when the other man suddenly speaks up, “I like your ass.”

Poe blinks. Did he hear that right?

No, he definitely heard that right, like, he’s 99% sure. Finn’s looking like a flustered mess, and just so, _so_ kissable, but the directness of it all takes him back just for a moment.

“What?”

“Your hair.” he almost interrupts him this time, shaking his head with eyes wide and, oh my God, he’s _blushing_ , “I said, I like your hair.”

Poe’s such a fucking goner right now, holy.

He wishes they were in a different setting right now, one where Poe wasn’t so scared of messing this up, and not at a stupid bus stop.

But the first move is out there. Shit, maybe this could go somewhere. Finn might’ve just raised his hopes.

So Poe can’t help biting his lip.

Mostly to keep himself grounded, really. What is this man doing to him?

 _Of course_ , this is when the bus decides to arrive and ruin whatever this moment is, if it even is a moment at all. And since Finn’s going on this one, he’s gotta get his thoughts out there before it’s too late.

“You can touch it sometime, if you want.” Poe ends up telling him, and Finn physically does a double take. Okay, he also can’t help a smirk right now, because, well, it’s his trademark. That’s what the television people say, anyway. “My hair, that is.”

The other man is looking significantly flustered, but is that a breath of relief? Poe hopes he’s reading him right. At least, real life angel gives him a nod, and lets out a breathy laugh.

Not awkward, but warm. 

He just might get lost in his deep, dark eyes forever, if it wasn’t for the bus driver honking at them impatiently. _Rude_.

Which is why Finn turns to leave, fuck. His ass is definitely something Poe doesn’t mind looking at, either, but he’d wish for less of a cliffhanger.

It’s almost like the pianist hears his thoughts out loud, turning around to look at him in a significantly meaningful way. And, well, he also recognises _bedroom eyes_ , so to speak. God, the things he wants to do to him.

Finn finds an ending for their conversation, “Talk tomorrow?”

Poe grins.

…

After their talk yesterday, Poe waits around after Rey’s left. His friend’s phone starts ringing when they’re saying their goodbyes, and she runs out the door with a suppressed “ _Dad!_ I told you I was at practice!”

Of course, he doesn’t really mind, not when it’s the pianist who glances at him with patience. Actually, he’s self consciously fixing his curls when Finn clears his throat, “Poe, I, uh. About yesterday-”

“May I buy you a drink?”

He finds himself blurting out the interruption, on the verge of cursing himself again, but the taller man scratches his neck and licks his lips. Smiles again with that damn sunny face, flashing his teeth, _please_.

Finn nods, and Poe is over the moon.

So the real life angel accompanies him on the bus. He’s actually thinking of any bars close by, but Finn shyly explains that it isn’t his particular scene. 

He almost looks apologetic, which he’s just too nice for.

And when Poe tells him it’s his call, they can even just drop it, even though he seriously doesn’t want to leave the pianist like this, he bites the inside of his cheek again and comes up with another suggestion.

Finn’s question of “You got a hotel room?” comes off spades more confident than his confession last time.

He looks deep in concentration again, adorably almost holding in his breath, luckily, Poe doesn’t need much time to think about it.

“Yeah.” his answer is simple with a chuckle, which he feels like adding on, “... Yeah?”

Real life angel hums in agreement, and it takes all of Poe’s self-containment to not scream in pure thrill.

Okay, alright, this is happening.

He doesn’t know what this is yet, but _something_ is definitely happening.

Poe may be thanking his lucky stars that the hotel room’s got a mini bar.

He may or may not also thank them for said room being absent of his best friend, because, well, she’d definitely brag about making this happen.

And he’s honestly still sort of baffled Finn seems interested, whatever that means, so the thought of Rey gets pushed to the back corner of his brain.

So, now they’re here.

Finn’s wearing a white button up shirt today, which is fine, except the top few buttons aren’t done, his view to the peaking collarbones once again splendid.

The taller man looks _soft_ in this lighting. What is happening to Poe, seriously?

There’s really only bed lights on right now, which is because the ceiling lamp doesn’t work, okay, shut up, but they’re not left in darkness.

Instead the warmth radiates off of the taller man, who positions himself on the end of Poe’s single bed while he himself is rummaging through the cooler.

Cans of beer isn’t exactly flirtatious, and champagne is definitely too extravagant. Ah, shit.

The thought of the red wine kindly offered in a gift bag, from the owner of the hotel, no less, probably thanking all of the _Strictly_ contestants for the boom in business, springs into his mind.

Finn’s eyes quietly follow him around until comes up with the bottle and glasses, and accepts the offer.

“Well, cheers.” he says, and the real life angel clinks their glasses together easily.

Okay, this is good, right?

The pianist’s hands are restless, but they keep this eye contact that makes him feel certain things, and Poe thinks he’s feeling just as nervous as Finn.

In fact, he finds himself reaching for the TV remote and a couple of zaps lands them on what appears to be a romantic drama of some kind, black and white, French.

Maybe a bit pretentious for this situation, but the taller man reaches out a hand, a stop signal when he’s about to move.

“It’s my favorite,” Finn explains, almost _giggling_ , “There’s just something about the way they look at each other. Sorry, that’s embarrassing.”

Poe shakes his head almost furiously.

“Finn, you have to stop apologising.”

He’s biting his lip again, Christ, is he blissfully unaware of how attractive that is, or is he doing that just to bother him?

The man hums again, which seems to be the quick end of that discussion, and Poe might be going out of his mind thinking of how to make a _move_ , a smooth one, one that can be compared with the image the media’s painted of him, a look to swoon for, but a dumb questions comes before anything else, “Do you really like my ass?”

Finn straightens his back, looking flustered again.

The leading lady on the screen sighs, and in a similar turning point sort of way, he turns to Poe with determination, it looks like, “Yes. Uh, is that alright?”

He finds himself laughing. This red wine definitely isn’t helping with making his face any less pink or heated.

“Hell yes.”

Poe doesn’t particularly like that response either, but it seems to fit with the smirk he doesn’t bother hiding, and Finn’s hands seems to finally rest.

The wine glass has disappeared somewhere, not that he cares at all to know its current location, and the pianist doesn’t waste much time putting his own glass away before his nose is bumping Poe’s and a pair of soft lips takes over all his thoughts.

This is like, thirty times better than he imagined. Not that he spent a lot of time imagining this scenario… oh, screw it, whatever.

The moment quite literally takes over, and he kisses the _certified_ real life angel back as if his life depended on it.

It ends way too quickly, Poe could almost pout when Finn pulls back and stumbles over his apologetic words, “Was that- Should I have done that? I’m sorry-”

“ _Finn,_ ” he tells him, not caring if he interrupts, and _finally_ gets to grab his face in his hands with thumbs gracing lightly over his ridiculously soft skin, just a tiny bit of stubble on his chin, “What did I tell you before?”

The pianist nods. This, of course, prompts himself to finish what he started, and Finn tugs on his hair, _holy shit_ , so how can Poe not get his hands under the flimsy fabric of his shirt, come on?

He gets said stupid shirt off in the speed of lightning, goes to cup the man’s cheek again, and Finn’s already biting his lip for entrance, so Poe gladly obliges.

It’s too easy to let the little melody go, sounding much like a ringtone, shortly appearing in the background but fading away since a certain pair of hands are already discarding his belt.

Good fucking riddance, he thinks.

These pants are way too tight at this point, anyway, so Poe repositions himself, which is halfway successful until the pianist gets a hold of the golden star on the chain around his neck and pulls him down, which does _all_ the right things to him right now.

He expects Finn to apologise, again, but the moan Poe lets out, feeling lightheaded and out of breath, most likely lets him know he’s done the opposite of wrong here.

It goes like this with the man beneath him fitting kind of like a puzzle piece, perfectly snug, and strong arms wrap around his neck while his own mouth goes for those collar bones that've been teasing him for too long, and Finn gasps.

Sweet music in Poe’s ears. His brain really starts thinking about this little series of notes the pianist played during warm-up, it’s ridiculous.

Maybe he’s got a little game left. Not like it matters, right now, he gets all the excited and laughs against Finn’s skin, all glowy and practically begging for hickeys, when the other man manages to get those stupid pants of his all the way off and tossed on the floor like the disgrace they are.

The real life angel’s still blushing. He’s just too good to be true, Poe decides.

Their mouths are back together, Finn’s fingers move like a ballet dancer on tiptoes, touching everywhere he’s _begging_ to be touched, hell, Poe’s mere seconds from telling the pianist to _keep going_ when a screech from the doorway prompts for a sudden flailing of limbs and his own departure from the sheets to the carpeted floor.

He looks up from his fall. And then he hides his face in his hands with a groan.

Rey just walked in on them.

His best friend walked in on him about to get laid. Sincerely hoping he was about to get laid.

Speaking of best friend, Rey’s standing with her hands on her hips, looking a mixture between shocked, tired and satisfied all at the same time.

Finn simply looks like he wants cut off civilisation and fuck off to an island somewhere never to be seen again.

 _Jesus_.

Poe figures he should find his footing, beginning to stand up when Rey turns around, reminding how not-clothed he is at the moment. Finn hands him the sheet, bless his heart.

Of course, he’s about to explain himself when his friend gets ahead of him, “Babe!” she says, adding a hundred exclamation points, probably, “Words cannot describe how thrilled I am that this is happening.”

She actually looks excited, like she just got off a rollercoaster, and Finn’s confused frown he sees in the corner of his eyes makes him embarrassed beyond belief.

The brunette continues, “But just- let me know next time, okay?”

Poe doesn’t have many words forming, so he just nods.

She claps once, grinning like an asshole, and grabs what he assumes she came for on her nightstand in mere seconds. She also moves in for a hug before realising Poe’s still glaring nakedness, opting for the smug smile again.

Rey’s never going to let him live this down.

And heading for the door again, her finishing remark leaves Poe only a little baffled, “You can thank me later!”

“Hey! You- I’m capable without your help, you know.”

She taps the door before making her leave, “Whatever you say.”

So, now what is he supposed to do?

This definitely makes for an interesting conversation tomorrow, and Rey’s probably going to pride herself as the queen of wingmen, or something.

Luckily, Finn meets his eyes with the very same sunshine smile, seeming focused on more important matters. “You wanna come back down here?”

Not exactly an offer Poe can refuse.

…

It’s a fast paced, all kinds of crazy, but mostly fucking amazing two weeks.

So, Poe and Rey win the finale, win the whole of _Strictly_ , which is unreal. But that’s not really important compared to a certain pianist wanting their _thing_ to continue.

And he doesn’t know what it is right now, if he can actually call Finn his _boyfriend_ , but Poe hopes he can very, very soon.

It’s perfect, is what he’s trying to say.

Almost like Finn never stops smiling at him, that’s how it feels.

His heart actually finds itself fluttering a lot more, constantly, to the point where his chest feels like bursting open.

But, oh, yeah, they get the trophy, and the money, and all that.

And while Rey gladly accepts that big ass golden thing, he’s heading for someone much more beautiful and beaming, who’s just too tempting to not kiss again.

A shocked and excited live audience, that’s for sure, but Poe finds that he doesn’t really care about being on camera at that moment.

His best friend shows them off like a proud parent.

Poe does hope the shippers out there aren’t too disappointed about this, but they’ll live. For a second, he’s scared of the response, scared of an outrage, but the same shippers quickly find a new obsession.

 _#FinnPoe_ , they call them, Rey tells them both while snatching a champagne bottle all to herself, and he’s got too much adrenaline to not laugh till his stomach hurts.

Feels a million times better with Finn’s arms around his waist, steadying him enough before he collapses on the floor, or something.

Poe practically feels like dancing till his feet fall off. Yeah, he won, alright.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've come this far and enjoy my work, come and say hi on my [tumblr](https://missorgana.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/empstrikesback) !!


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